


Landfall

by pauraque



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s05e13 Patient X, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-01
Updated: 2003-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-27 10:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/pseuds/pauraque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the Russian freighter, Krycek takes a break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Landfall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bardsmaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bardsmaid/gifts).



Krycek looks out over the black water, watches it swell like breathing, glitter with bright-eye reflections from the ship's lights. He rests against the ice-cold railing, hoping it doesn't stick to his skin. It's too cold out here, but he wants that now. Sick of the stifling heat below.

The thick fog has gone patchy, and he's starting to be able to see the stars. They'll be able to get underway again soon. Something's in his peripheral vision— a gull, grayish in the near-dawn. Krycek is surprised; he didn't think they were that close to land. The bird wheels around shakily, flickering white as it crosses paths with the lights, then teeters off into the darkness.

Krycek leans forward into the railing as he watches it go. The wind picks up, icy fingers ruffling through his hair. He squints off at the horizon, imagining he can spot land, and the sea seems bigger, broader than it did before. Smells of fresh salt and plant-rot— the world. A knot of strange excitement tightens in his stomach, and he has a sudden impulse to jump the railing, dive into the dark expanse of water.

His arm knocks against the metal rail, and he feels the sickening bump in his shoulder, his teeth. He shivers. His face is starting to feel frozen; he shouldn't have stayed up here so long.

He turns back to the ship, the stacks of grimy metal. He trudges over and opens the hatch, and grimaces at the first whiff of hot, stale air. But as his boots clunk down and down the staircase, he wipes his face blank, and sets his jaw against the reek of sweat and oil.


End file.
